


Duty Before Honor

by PlotlessWanderer



Category: Naruto
Genre: Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Trauma, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:42:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24188347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlotlessWanderer/pseuds/PlotlessWanderer
Summary: There was a certain art to following orders to the letter, rather than adhering to the spirit. Tobirama had long honed his talent for that particular method. It rarely ended well for him, but the freedom he had in exchange more than made up for any punishment. And, as he was technically following orders, it was near impossible for anyone to prove that he was knowingly twisting definitions to suit his plans.This time, however, there was no possible way to twist this into anything other than what it was.(Tobirama has one weakness that he will never expunge. It is written into his blood and bone, written there by little hands that are no longer capable of reaching for him. Tobirama will never let another child die when he can prevent it, even at the cost of his loyalty. Even at the cost of his life.)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 235





	Duty Before Honor

There was a certain art to following orders to the letter, rather than adhering to the spirit. Tobirama had long honed his talent for that particular method. It rarely ended well for him, but the freedom he had in exchange more than made up for any punishment. And, as he was technically following orders, it was near impossible for anyone to prove that he was knowingly twisting definitions to suit his plans. 

This time, however, there was no possible way to twist this into anything other than what it was. Outright disobedience. If he was very, very lucky and very, very persuasive, he might be able to avoid being labeled a traitor. 

Dawn had arrived over the past hour. It was still cold, the pre spring chill making his breath fog into a thick cloud in front of his face. Sunlight shone sideways through the trees, casting long soft shadows. Birds were squalling irritatingly in the trees and he had seen three separate herds of deer in the past hour as they came to the rivers edge to drink. 

Running atop the water, Tobirama had been traveling through the night. He didn't think his disappearance would be noted for a while yet, possibly not until noon, but he was determined to leave no tracks. Chakra was used exclusively for water walking and keeping his sensor range wide, while the rest was wrapped tight inside, cloaked from anyone who might catch the edge of it. 

A few more hours and his task would be finished one way or another. He would either die immediately, face capture and torture followed by ransom or death, or survive only to return to his clan for execution or demotion. There was no good end to this endeavor and he could not say which of the three was preferable. 

His arm ached fiercely. The brace he had strapped hastily to it was cutting into his wrist without the usual padding he would have used. It was held immobile by the bandaging strapping it to his chest.

Nestled inside in the sling, beneath the bandaging, a baby slept quietly. A steady thread of chakra wound through its system was keeping it quiet and asleep. It was a tiny thing, a little girl, born too early and too roughly. She was bruised all over but otherwise perfect from her tiny flower petal nail beds to her tiny little infant frown. A fuzz of ink dark hair had long ago dried and fluffed into a nearly disturbing, gravity defying poof that resembled a dandelion on the verge of seeding. The slight weight of her resting evenly across his chest, shoulder and arm, a painful position, but the safest he could offer her. Strapped into his sling and beneath the bandaging holding her to his body there was no possibility of her slipping free or even being jostled too harshly and even without chakra he could feel her small breaths puffing through his shirt. 

His other arm, despite not being broken, was more distracting. 

Kasumi was not asleep. Any attempt on Tobirama’s part to force her into it had been met with shrieking and her best attempt at mauling him with her blunt toddler teeth. A length of silk ribbon was wrapped three times around her head, covering her eyes completely. It had taken persuasion and conjoling to get her to consent to it, but she seemed to be faring better with it on. 

Three, possibly four, she was a chubby, solid little thing. He could already tell she was destined to be short, unlike all the Senju children he was so accustomed to who at her age were already well on their way to lankiness. But she was strong, the grip of her fingers in his ruff and the material of his shirt unrelenting. He wouldn’t be surprised to find that she had irreversibly stretched the cotton out of shape. 

She was the reason for this mission. The baby would have been fine, likely would have been safer back at the Senju compound, but Kasumi… she was already fading. Her chakra system had been rudely awakened and the pathways were ill formed and leaking. Already her signature was weaker, fluttering with uneven chakra production. Another week, perhaps even another day, and she would decline beyond anyones ability to help. 

If Tobirama had had more time to research. More time to find some sort of solution or arrange a transfer… But it was too late now. He was working on a time limit, and he would not go beyond it. 

“'Ama,” Kasumi muttered into his shoulder, scrubbing her face and subsequently her running nose against it. 

“Yes, Kasumi-chan?” He ignored the mucus. He had certainly dealt with far worse fluids. water sprayed as he leapt off the surface of the river to run on the stones spearing up among the rapids, a negligent press of chakra redirecting the droplets away from him.

“Hungry,” she mumbled and tugged at his shirt.

“You ate an hour ago,” he reminded her. Looking ahead, he spotted the towering ancient tree that marked the south east edge of the buffer dividing the Hyuuga territory from their neighbors. Not long now. 

“Hungry,” Kasumi insisted petulantly. 

Giving in easily, Tobirama maneuvered her to balance in the crook of his elbow and snaked a hand into a thigh pouch. He leapt ashore as he nudged a package of dried berries against her hip until she fumbled it into one of her hands, keeping the other firmly latched onto his ruff. As she pried it open and proceeded to noisily suck on the treat, Tobirama resigned himself to having his shirt not only misshapen but thoroughly stained. Perhaps he would be able to pass it off as blood. 

The terrain changed. The trees were scrubbier and further spaced, the ground rockier. Being a higher elevation than the Senju valley, the air felt sharper and colder. There were still patches of snow beneath the trees, blindingly white like an inverted shadow as it adhered to the spread of branches and the fall of shade. He shrugged his haori, a woolen, tattered thing he hadn’t worn since his last village infiltration mission, into a better position to more evenly cover the children. 

This had not been how he envisioned his day going. He had returned from his mission (a simple assassination, easy and quick) with the thought of spending a few days experimenting in his study, perhaps training with his brother and Touka if they were available. 

Instead he had cut a baby from the belly of a dying woman and plotted to steal her children away even as he cut the eyes from her head, his father watching over his shoulder.

He leapt into a tree, crouching to readjust the baby and take the empty package from a sticky Kasumi. Tucking the wax paper back into his pouch, he spent a moment sensing the terrain. 

He had rarely approached from this direction. It was more desolate, certainly, but the patrols were further apart than on the other side of the territory. He could easily feel them moving at a leisurely pace with half the man power he was used to. A few moments more of concentration and he tagged their signatures so he could keep track of them easier. Then he leapt to the ground and resumed his run. 

An hour later, Kasumi tugged sharply at his ruff. “'Ama.”

“Yes, Kasumi-chan?”

She stayed silent and he risked a quick peek beneath the haori to find her frowning, fingers plucking at his ruff. He blew gently over her face to get her attention and her nose screwed up in aggravation. It was heart-wrenchingly familiar and it pulsed like a fresh wound in his chest even as his heart warmed at the sight. 

“I need potty,” she admitted grudgingly. 

Tobirama nodded and immediately began sensing for a safe place to stop. “Thank you for telling me. One moment, please.”

In short order he found a clearing with soft earth, surrounded by trees on three sides and a high formation of stones on the other. The unobstructed sunlight made the area significantly warmer than the forest he had been traveling through, but he was still somewhat reluctant to expose Kasumi to the cold for long. 

Finding a soft patch of dirt, he scraped a trench with his foot before crouching and letting Kasumi slip slowly down his chest to settle between his knees. Her hand in his ruff was death grip tight and her face was grim despite the cherubic roundness of it. He felt every bit of her unease and unsteadiness and unwillingness to lose the only tangible link between them and so he moved slowly, keeping his hand on her even as he moved it from her back and down her arm until he clasped her hand. 

“Do you need any help?” 

She shook her head, black curls bouncing even in their dismally dirty and sweat sodden state. Reluctantly she released his ruff, tightening her hand around his thumb in trade. Feeling around with a foot, she found the trench and clumsily squatted over it. 

When she was done he hoisted her to perched on one knee and cleaned the little spatters of mud from her foot with the outside of his haori before tucking her back underneath its shelter. She latched on immediately, tighter than ever, and buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder with a single shudder. 

“Very neatly done,” he praised seriously as he nudged dirt over the tench and carefully patted it into an innocuous state. “Anything else?”

She shook her head but her body loosened slightly. 

“Then we’ll get going. Be as quiet as you can, alright?”

Clever child that she was, she merely nodded again. Tobirama sternly buried the urge to nuzzle her head; considering his clan was solely at fault for her circumstances it would be terribly inappropriate. 

He slipped easily through a gap between two patrols, noting that one had several younger members being neatly shadowed by a secondary patrol. Likely a new team on a first mission. 

Hours passed. The trees grew taller and closer again, more familiar. As he descended from the rocky hills he caught a few glimpses of the river, a reassuring if distant gleam of hazy silver. 

The closer they came the quieter his thought grew. Battle readiness smoothed the rough edges of his emotions until they were as smooth as the rounded curve of a ceramic cup. It was a relief to hone his focus solely onto the mission, a familiar comfort. He had not had any doubts about his plans before now, but all the dread was washed away. 

The walls of the compound came into view as he narrowly slid between two more patrols, more vigilant and heavily armed than the others. Perching lightly in the crook of a branch and pressed close to the trunk of a pine, Tobirama observed the compound.

It was not as large as the Senju’s and the walls were not nearly as tall, but it was significantly more crowded. Tobirama was vaguely surprised at the tightly packed, bustling community contained inside.

He had known that the Uchiha had a higher civilian population than the Senju, or many of the other clans. He had even spent many evenings sensing the other clan during his range expanding exercises and knew far more about the population than anyone could imagine. He knew the civilians lived mostly in the center of the compound, with the shinobi surrounding them on the edges, a living wall behind their stone one. He knew the walls were always crawling with sentry. He knew the little village around the compound, with its rice fields and pastures, conducted monthly drills so they could retreat behind the walls easily in the event of an attack. 

But seeing it was somehow different. Stranger than he had imagined. He could see the blurry figures of farmhands working in the fields, could hear their voices calling to one another boisterously. He watched as two boys ran shrieking from a younger one who was holding a frog and laughing manically. 

Most of them burned with the hot, roiling light of Uchiha chakra, the kind he had always seen blazing on the battlefield. It was surreal to see the gentle glow of it from so close, to observe how it moved and waved in bodies not primed for combat. 

Kasumi shifted against him, head cocking as she heard voices. Perhaps she even recognized a few of them. 

Tobirama knew he should not linger any longer. Watching these people had already been a poor decision and every moment he lingered was a moment in which he could be discovered. But he couldn’t resisted ducking his head into the front of haori and taking in Kasumi’s round face and the baby’s small scowl. It ached, the thought of not feeling their breath damp and warm against him, not feeling their hearts beating. 

In a move of shameful indulgence, he tucked his head alongside Kasumi’s. 

“I’m going to get your families attention. They will be very surprised, so they might shout a little, but don’t be afraid, everything will be alright. Just hold on very tight, alright?”

Kasumi nodded once and tightened her grip obediently, even tightening her legs around his ribs. Clearly, she was well accustomed to being carried by a shinobi. “Okay.”

He squeezed lightly in thanks and dropped down. 

Running through the village he made it halfway to the compound walls before he was spotted, much further than he had anticipated. As shouts and alarms bells rang, he felt a veritable flood of shinobi converging towards him, the nearest patrols sending half from behind and half the sentries from the walls. A civilian screamed, dropping a basket of fresh laundry into the muddy road as he jumped lightly onto the roof of a tall storehouse. 

“I come in peace!” He shouted. Kasumi was quivering hard against him, face pressed hard against him. He rocked in place minutely, desperately wishing he had more arms, some to raise and some to comfort her with. As it was, he had none to spare. “I mean no harm!”

A kunai flickered by his face and he twitched only far enough out of its path to avoid being stabbed through the head. He could only hope that his remaining stationary and unarmed would be equitable to having his hands in sight.

“Unlikely,” one of the shinobi snarled. Three had landed on the roof around him, two with multiple kunai in hand, one with a tanto. Thirteen others were in the streets and on neighboring rooftops.

“I mean no harm,” Tobirama repeated evenly, and began to slowly shrug the haori open. “I have—“

“Senju!” One of the kunai wielders hissed, her single eye widening. “He’s Senju!”

Instantly the shouting resumed and all three, as well as seven more threw themselves towards him. 

Tobirama ducked beneath the sweep of the tanto, flipped above a dozen kunai and shuri-ken and knocked aside a high kick with his foot as he toppled over the edge of the roof and dodged another swinging sword upon landing. 

The baby slept on, barely jostled, but Kasumi began to cry. 

“Stop! I have two—“ A well executed team attack by three shinobi had him swallowing back the words in place of spitting water to combat their katon’s and using the resultant steam to duck down a narrow path between houses. 

This was proving even more difficult than he had anticipated. He stomped heavily down on a katana going for his knee, using weight and leverage to snap it clean in two and bent back beneath a sweeping battle fan that would have bisected him mid torso. 

He had thought that they would at least try to learn his motivation before killing him, giving him the opportunity to hand over the children before attempting to flee. He had not thought he would not even be able to fit a single word in. 

Seven opponents at once proved almost too much. With his hands unusable at the moment he had only his legs to fight with and unrefined chakra that was far less effective without hand seals. He narrowly avoid decapitation and allowed a knee to his back in order to snap his head back into the attackers face. The familiar feel of cartilage collapsing was mollifying enough to temper the ache of the blow. 

But this was untenable. He would not win against such numbers, no matter the rumors regarding his prowess. Worse, every one of them was aiming to kill rather than incapacitate, which Tobirama considered poor tactics on their part considering a living opponent would provide more information than a mere corpse. But the children were huddled against his center mass and a single lucky strike might very well see all three of them dead. 

Anger flickered at the edge of his battle calm and he savagely kneed an older veteran in the groin while spitting a jet of water at the kunoichi beside him, flinging her several feet away and through a shed wall. 

He leapt back to a rooftop and, just as two familiar blazing signature bore down, shrugged the haori off. 

“I have your children!” He roared, scowled into the face of Uchiha Madara with every ounce of his displeasure.

Tobirama had fought Uchiha countless times, on the battlefield and during missions. He was well used to the blood red glow of their eyes, the feral edge to their chakra. But never had he been the focus of so many activated sharingan. 

Dozens of them stared at him from every side and angle, unblinking and unwavering. All were finally silent and still, though many quivered with what Tobirama assumed was suppressed blood lust and rage. But finally the attacks were ended and he could communicate. 

Kasumi was wailing into his chest, breathless and on the verge of hyperventilating, her tears soaking straight through the silk of the ribbon. Her body temperature had risen significantly, and she was a hot, damp furnace of distress against him, he terror so strong it blotted out the details of the signatures around him. He jostled her gently in his arm and, eyes on Madara and his brother, dropped his cheek to the top of her head. 

Izuna growled in feral rage at the gesture. Even under the force of the sound Tobirama could hear the creak of leather as the man gripped his sword tighter. 

His own eye half lidded to delay the need to blink, Tobirama wrapped his fingers loosely around Kasumi’s tiny foot and jostled it lightly. 

“I have your children,” he repeated. 

“You do,” Madara snarled, eyes spinning. Tobirama kept his firmly gaze on his throat. “But not for long.”

“I don’t plan to keep them any longer at all,” Tobirama agreed and wondered at the surge of chakra and emotion all around him. A good number of shinobi and two civilians started forward before freezing. Growing negligibly calmer, Kasumi hiccuped miserably and whimpered. Tobirama nearly flinched at the sound, at the sheer misery suffusing from her and through him, and jostled her again. “Kasumi, say hello.”

Izuna and Madara both snarled. 

“'Aaama,” Kasumi said waveringly, shaking hands tugging at his clothing. “'Aaaama!”

“I’ll pull your heart out slow and feed it to the pigs while still beating,” Izuna hissed. The tip of his blade scratched over the roof as he crouched.

Kasumi stiffened, heart once again galloping and Tobirama scowled at the man, tightening his grip on her in response. She moaned miserably. “Noooo.”

“What do you want?” Madara demanded. Unlike many of his shinobi, Madara was not straining and restless. His usual weapons were not in evidence. Instead he held a short spear, hanging loose at his side. It was the only weapon not currently aimed at Tobirama’s head and he was pleased at the evidence that at least one Uchiha was ready to listen. 

“The Senju captured one of your shinobi fifteen days ago, as well as three civilians and Kasumi.”

“Don’t fucking say her name,” Izuna growled. Tobirama ignored him. 

“Unfortunately none of the others survived the encounter,” he continued, keeping the explanation succinct. The last thing he would want in this scenario was redundancy. “However Kasumi survived, as well as the child born after the shinobi’s capture. She did not survive the birth.” After a second of silence and consideration, Tobirama bobbed his head. “My condolences.”

“What. Do. You. Want.” Madara repeated tonelessly. The tip of the spear quivered where it pointed down. 

Tobirama frowned harder. Clearly, with precise enunciation, he also repeated. “I have your children. Don’t you want them back?”

Izuna screamed and launched forward, sword leading. 

Before Tobirama could so much as leap back Madara snatched his brother neatly out of the air and slammed him against the roof, eyes not moving from Tobirama. Tobirama, for his part, merely watched as Izuna struggled, animalistic grunts and truly foul language accompanying his scrabbling struggles.

“We will give you whatever you want, if you release the children unharmed.”

For a moment Tobirama was unsure that he had heard the man correctly. Then he stiffened. Kasumi felt the tension and whimpered in response, and he squeezed her foot reassuringly even as he glared at the Uchiha head.

His thoughts raced. The implication was offensive, but not, upon reflection, unexpected. He had thought the Uchiha had accepted that he did not kill children, even upon the battlefield. Not even Uchiha children. But his clan still did so, which somewhat excused the mans belief that such a thing would happen here. Even if it was stupid to think anyone would do so when a slow death would be dealt them in return. And that also reminded him…

“Kasumi is ill.”

Madara twitched and Izuna, who had stopped struggling, resumed. 

“How?”

Tobirama shrugged slightly, allowing the motion to mask a brief sway that quieted Kasumi and the now restless infant. “Her pathways sustained damage. They are currently hemorrhaging chakra and the damage will prove irreversible soon.”

Filth in regards to his parentage, his character and his sexual proclivities issued alarmingly from Izuna and Tobirama abruptly lost patience with his rival. Chakra surged down his leg, through his foot, and splintered the wood beneath Izuna face with a sharp crack. 

“You are disturbing Kasumi,” he said coldly. “Restrain yourself or I shall do so.”

Izuna blessedly fell silent, staring hatefully through a forest of wood slivers. Tobirama sniffed disdainfully and turned his attention back to Madara. 

Snapping the thread of chakra keeping the infant asleep, Tobirama dropped to one knee and proceeded to coax Kasumi’s grip loose.

“She requires care.” Kasumi was refusing to release her hold, her legs still clamped tight around his body and her hands pulling so hard on his shirt it was close to slipping off his shoulder entirely. He rested her bottom on his leg to free up his arm and gently pried her left hand loose from his ruff. “I was unfortunately unequipped to provide it.”

The infant was waking now, moving restlessly in its bandage and linen sling shelter. Tobirama spared a moment to brush his chakra reassuringly over hers, featherlight and as warm as he could make it. 

“The infant is also in need of care. She has not received proper nourishment, as her mother expired before she could attempted her first feeding.” Tobirama stopped and looked down at Kasumi’s head, burrowed into his armpit. 

“Kasumi,” he said sternly, giving up on manual disentanglement, “you must get down now.”

“Noooo,” she moaned. Sensing a thread of unneeded drama, Tobirama frowned and prodded her side. 

“You are home now.”

Kasumi shook her head. “'O’ama, no.”

“Yes you are. Let go.”

“Nooooo.”

Sighing, cupping one hand around her skull, Tobirama returned his gaze to Madara’s throat. “Confirm our whereabouts.”

Madara swallowed and for the first time blinked, a lightening quick glance meeting Izuna’s before resettling on Tobirama. He cleared his throat, released his grip on his brother and took a single careful step forward. Tobirama swiveled in place to put Kasumi obligingly nearer.

“Kasumi,” Madara said evenly. “You are home. You’re safe.” He swallowed heavily and the swirl of his sharingan stuttered slightly. “You’re safe. C-come here, okay?”

“No.” Tobirama startled slightly at the sound of Kasumi’s voice. It was sharp, angry, unlike any tone he had yet heard from her. “No. Stay with 'Ama.” She emerged just long enough to turn her face towards Madara. “Go away!”

Tobirama flicked her hip but she ignored the reprimand in order to return to hiding. “Kasumi. That is your clan head.”

“No,” she muttered mulishly. 

Tobirama mastered the urge to sigh heavily. He had somewhat forgotten the aggravation of dealing with a petulant toddler. Nostalgia had blunted reality, apparently, but he still knew that trying to reason with her further would only result in ugliness and possible hostility. To make matters yet more unpleasant, the infant awoke completely and began to cry the mewling cry of the very young. She wriggled and jarred Tobirama’s arm unpleasantly. 

Standing smoothly, Kasumi triumphantly resettled, he faced Madara and titled up his chin. “We are at an impasse. Is there somewhere in which Kasumi will feel secure enough to release me?”

“What, are you claiming to be the prisoner here?” Izuna snapped. There was a new sort of wildness to his eyes, which were wide and beginning to redden with the use of sharingan. 

Tobirama considered the armful of damp toddler and concluded that, since it had worked well so far, he could utilized flattery while simultaneously baiting the Uchiha heir, which was always satisfying.

“Yes. She is a very fierce warrior.” 

Kasumi squeezed close in response, a muted flare of delight at last warming the congealed cold of her chakra. 

“Fuck you,” Izuna muttered. But he sheathed his sword and finally looked at Madara. 

“Fetch Kagami,” the Uchiha head said softly, too softly for most to hear. But Tobirama relied on his hearing greatly and was just able to catch it. 

Izuna nodded and flickered out of sight. Madara gestured to the edge of the roof.

“Follow me, Senju.”

They dropped into the road and walked slowly away. Civilians peered out of windows and doors while the host of Shinobi silently shadowed them. Behind them arose muttering, frantic and quick, and Tobirama blotted it out as they walked. 

They reached a stable yard, open and clean, the ground cobbled. The stables were shut tight but Tobirama could clearly sense the horses and donkeys within, restless and barely soothed by a few stablehands. 

It was situated just outside the compound gate, in the wide clear space between the wall and the village. It was a decent area to perform the handover; too deep within the territory for Tobirama to flee without a fight but not within the compound where he might perform some sort of deadly sabotage before being overwhelmed. The kill box of the open fields between wall and village also deprived him of any cover. 

Tobirama was glad to see that the Uchiha were not as strategically inept as first contact had indicated. Even if this competence made things more difficult. 

“Why is she blindfolded?” Madara asked. 

Tobirama was swaying gently, chakra wrapped around the now fussing infant in his sling. It was mildly embarrassing to perform the motion in the presence of enemies but there was no recourse so he disregarded the looks he could feel on his back. 

“The sharingan was hurting her,” he explained while wriggling as much of his hand into the sling as possible, stoking the baby’s blanket wrapped toes. 

Somehow inhaled sharply. 

“What?” Madara whispered.

Tobirama noted that the man, already Uchiha pale, had blanched white. A quick scan showed disregulated, turbulent chakra on all sides and he felt a shinobi stagger and then quickly flicker away. Unsettled, he tightened his grip on Kasumi. 

“Her sharingan. It is hurting her. The blindfold helps.”

“No.” The denial was sharp. An exclamation like a cry of pain. “No. Thats not possible.”

Tobirama swallowed a surge of nausea and angled Kasumi out of the mans sight. 

“When I found her it was active and she could not deactivate it. Perhaps due to her imbalanced chakra. When I noted the drain, I covered her eyes.” Fear traced briefly up his spine. A raw worry that he had done something wrong, the his hypothesis was incorrect and his actions harmful. But it had seemed to help, surely it was alright? He swallowed and regained control. “It appeared to lessen the drain significantly.”

Izuna dropped into the yard, a boy balance on his shoulders with his hands buried in the mans hair up to the wrist. Madara did not seem to notice.

“What do you mean? Where did you find her?”

Tobirama wanted to look away. Something like shame, like disgust tugged the bottom of his stomach, a sickening feeling. To combat it he raised his chin and spoke evenly.

“In the Senju dungeon. With her mother.”

Her mother, with ninja wire wrapped tight enough around her throat every breath was a wet wheeze. Whose hands were broken and tied behind her, legs in stocks, the plain robe over her pregnant belly saturated with dried blood and a blindfold around her eyes. With Kasumi, bound just as thoroughly, hiding behind her too frightened to cry, eyes spinning and spinning and spinning. 

The boy on Izuna’s shoulders caught sight of Tobirama and gasped, instantly scrambling down. As soon as his feet touched the dusty ground he was racing towards Tobirama, somehow evading Izuna’s grasp for several steps until he was inevitably caught and swung back. 

“Kasumi?!” He called.

She jerked upright, head narrowly avoiding Tobirama’s jaw as she jerked towards the boys voice. She reached up to pulled off the ribbon, but stopped when Tobirama murmured to her. 

“'Ami?” She called back weakly, fingers fluttering in his direction. 

“Kasumi! Izuna-ni, let me go, let go!”

Tobirama dropped to one knee and opened his arm, Kasumi staggering away. As she stumbled towards Izuna and Kagami, Tobirama rolled the stiffness out of his shoulder and stretched his cramped arm. Carrying a toddler through the night and most of the morning was more taxing than he remembered. 

He watched as the two children clumsily collided, the boy lifting Kasumi right off the ground with the strength of his hug. He was talking continually, almost too quickly to follow. His hands plucked at the knot of the ribbon. “Are you hurt? Kasumi, are you okay?”

Kasumi simply cried and clung, that iron grip Tobirama had become so familiar with transferred to Kagami. 

There was significant resemblance between them. His face was sharper, his body lankier. But they had the same black brown eyes, wildly curling hair. The same curve to their wide mouths and crook of their toes. A brother, Tobirama decided, and was relieved that at least there was one person here who would protect them. 

Standing again and keeping a wary side eye on Madara, who was staring at Kasumi with something like devastation in every line of his body, Tobirama began unwinding his bandages.

He didn't bother folding them for reuse; they were still clean but it was foolish to attempt to rewind them while in enemy territory. He let them pool by his feet until both the baby and his arm were loose from his chest. The sudden lack of pressure and support was uncomfortable to both of them, if her wail was any indication, and he hid a wince as he carefully maneuvered her out of the sling. 

She was swaddled tight in a thin shinobi kit blanket. It was warmer and more durable than appearances implied, but not nearly as soft as he would have preferred. But he had not wanted to risk stopping at the compound and could only use what he had left over from his last mission. He certainly wasn’t going to subject her to the prison blankets. 

Holding her in the crook of his good arm, he took advantage of the opportunity to look at her in full light for the first time. She was every bit as delightfully ugly as he imagined. A wrinkled, too pink, bruised little thing. A deep breath and some of his delight melted away. 

She smelled very close to most infants but not the same. There was no familiar milky scent to her. The warm sugar water he had coaxed down her before they left was no substitution for the milk she should have had. By now she was likely starving. 

Looking around, he took in the shinobi surrounding them and angled the infant meaningfully, hoping one of them would take her and find her much needed sustenance. Surely in a clan this large there was a nursing mother willing to donate a breast to an orphan. 

Some of the shinobi looked towards Madara as though hoping for instruction but he was still caught up in staring at Kasumi, who was cradled in her brothers lap where he had plopped down to sit in the dirt. Izuna was watching them as well, but seemed to be keeping an eye on Tobirama. 

The baby wailed. 

If this were a normal circumstance Tobirama would have given her a finger to suck at, but his hands were filthy and who knows how the Uchiha would take such an action. He rocked her instead, wishing he had his other hand free to pat her. It had always worked with Itama. 

“She is hungry,” he reminded them. Izuna and Kagami both looked at him and then the bundle in his arms. Kagami’s eyes went wide. 

“Is that a baby?” He asked abruptly. “Hey, Kasumi, who’s that?”

Tobirama cocked his head at the boy. He was young, perhaps seven. There was evidence in his chakra that he had begun training, though it was barely discernible. He was already all wiry muscle under his childhood softness, and if the gentleness he held Kasumi with was any indication, he had experience with babies of many ages. All told he seemed a reliable caretaker. 

“I believe this is your sister,” Tobirama said and crouched, tugging the blanket down to further expose the infants face. She fussed louder at the wash of cold air but when Tobirama angled her towards Kagami he leaned forward in fascination. 

“A sister?” He said breathlessly. There was an obvious struggle then, as he looked at the baby and his sister huddled in his arms. Clearly he wanted a better view but couldn’t decide whether unseating her was worth it. 

Tobirama glanced at Izuna, still bracketing the siblings between his legs and watching Tobirama. They did not meet eyes, because Tobirama was not in fact stupid, but they came to an agreement regardless. Izuna nodded and slipped a kunai soundlessly down his sleeve into his palm, hiding it from the Kagami’s view but allowing Tobirama to see both it and Izuna’s clear willingness to use it. 

Tobirama could respect that, though he would not have let himself approach at all were he in the mans shoes. 

Nevertheless he walked steadily closer and crouched in front of the siblings, leaning forward until the arm the baby was cradled in was all but in Kasumi’s lap. She startled briefly, but seemed to recognize his scent and reached out to grab his sleeve. 

Tobirama sighed. 

Kagami did not seem to care or perhaps did not notice. His eyes were all for the baby and he reached for her with one reverent hand. Looking halfway in love already, he poked her cheek hard enough to dimple it and grinned when she shrieked angrily at the treatment. 

“Another sister. Hey, hey, Kasumi! You have a baby sister! You won!”

Kasumi shook her head and stayed silent. Kagami did not notice and laughed louder.

“Not so loud,” Tobirama said. “She’s had a difficult day and is hungry.”

“Well, we need to feed her then. Wheres mom? She’ll do it.”

Tobirama did not look away but he waited. And waited. After a few seconds he glanced up and realized Izuna was not going to explain. Nor was anyone else. 

Anger flared and he bared his teeth. Cowards. All of them were cowards and cruel. How could they leave the news to Tobirama, the one who had all but slaughtered the mother of these three? Kagami deserved to hear it from people he trusted, from people who would be able to grieve alongside him. All respect he had grudgingly allowed since being brought to the stable shriveled to disdain.

But Kagami had noticed the silence by now, was tensing and paling by degrees. To leave him un-informed would be just as cruel as the Uchiha’s silence and Tobirama did not have that cruelty in him. Not for children. Not for someone with that kind of dread growing in their eyes like poisonous flowers blooming. 

“Your mother is dead, Kagami.” It was said flatly. Evenly. Ugly truth like this needed to be said without hesitation or doubt. Lancing a wound the listener did not even realize now existed. “She died last night, just after your sister was born.”

“No,” Kagami choked, arms wrapping tight around his sister but eyes fixed on Tobirama’s.

“Yes. She protected your sisters, saved their lives. She was very brave.”

Kagami keened, a sound of pure grief that Tobirama had heard countless time before. But every time he heard it he could feel the shape of it, how it ripped his throat raw those times he had voiced it himself. 

“She told me to bring your sisters home. To bring them to you.” It was the truth, in a sense. He could hardly understand the woman, but she had manage to order him to take her children home. To the Uchiha. And Kagami was the only home left for his sisters.

“Wheres dad?” Kagami gasped and Tobirama could tell that the boy already knew. He was the son of kunoichi; if she had not survived then his father most certainly had not. Tobirama had not seen the dead, but only because they had been civilians. 

“He is dead.”

Kagami moaned and began to cry, horrible, hitching sobs that Tobirama knew even without sensing hurt. 

“I am sorry for your loss, Kagami.”

Grief was universal, Tobirama supposed as he watched Kagami collapse inward, too grief stricken to cope. He wished comfort was the same. 

“Get up,” Izuna said tightly and Tobirama obliged, twisting free of Kasumi’s grip and stepping out of her reach. 

A civilian woman stood behind the Uchiha and by the bone white, bone hard set of her face and the riveted stare fixed on the baby, he assumed she was a relative. Tobirama extended the baby as far towards her as he safely could, and waited until her outstretched arms were not shaking before tipping the infant into them. 

He felt lighter. And hollower. 

Izuna stepped forward with the speed Tobirama fought against during every battle. Usually they were evenly matched, and sometimes Tobirama was quicker. But he had returned from one mission only to immediately depart on another. He had run through three territories in one night, with three sleepless nights proceeding them. He was injured, exhausted and in pain. 

For once, Izuna was faster. 

The kunai sunk into his arm and pushed him back, all Izuna’s weight behind the blade. Tobirama grit his teeth and let him. The sooner he was away from the children the sooner he could fight free.

“Don’t think I didn't mean what I said,” Izuna snarled, and Tobirama winced as spittle peppered his face. Izuna tried to twist the blade but Tobirama twisted his arm with the motion, preventing what would have been disastrously torn muscles. He considered breaking away, but at least he knew where this particular kunai was and that was worth the pain.

“I always assume whatever comes from your mouth is merely air,” Tobirama replied. Truthfully, even. Izuna had threatened him significantly more than he had ever managed to wound him. 

“This time I’ll be sure to prove you wrong then.” 

The surrounding shinobi were on the move, circling closer. Three scooped up the woman and Kagami, Kasumi still in his grip. As they ran away Kasumi screamed shrilly, reaching blindly out with desperate hands.

“'Ama! 'Ama!”

Tobirama did not watch them leave. His mission was complete and their welfare out of his hands. He only wished they had moved quickly enough for him not to hear her cry. 

The kunai was wrenched free and Tobirama broke away before it could resheath itself elsewhere, vaulting backwards over a charging kunoichi. 

With one hand at last free, Tobirama wasted no time forming seals. A water dragon roared into being, sweeping a clear path through the throng of shinobi. Dropping beneath a swing of Izuna’s katana, he sprinted forward. 

Tobirama had not forgotten Madara. It was impossible to forget such a massive threat. But he might possibly have allowed more complacency in that regard than was wise. Because when the Uchiha head appeared before him, blank faced and exuding killing intent, Tobirama was a fraction too slow.

The spear scraped the side of his ribs, the dull tip an agony as it burst through the skin of his back. Behind him he sensed Izuna grabbing the spear. 

In an instant, brothers holding each end of the spear with Tobirama skewered on it, they shoved it down and to the side, bearing Tobirama to the ground with a scream he couldn’t contained. He was trapped on his side and before agony ripped awareness away, he watched as Madara pressed one knee to the spear and felt Izuna do the same. Together they dropped their weight and the last thing Tobirama heard was the wet crack of ribs folding under pressure.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I will probably add to this eventually, but at the moment I am trying to keep my attention on other projects. Please note that I have not watched the show in about five years or more, and have a memory like a sieve. Also, no time to do research. So some of the ninja stuff is cobbled together from not very clear memory and from my own imagination. Its an ugly amalgamation, but serviceable. I think.  
> Please leave a comment if you are so inclined, otherwise merely enjoy. Be safe, have fun!


End file.
